


He Says Sorry With a Straight Face

by thegreatgayjatsby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brief Mentions of Dean and Sam, Crowley using his powers as the King of Hell to their full extent, Fluff, Hospitals, Kissing in Public(ish), M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8026441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatgayjatsby/pseuds/thegreatgayjatsby
Summary: Bobby's death hits Crowley like a freight train, and the King of Hell decides then and there that he will not lose his favorite mortal. Their game of cat and mouse is too much for that sort of death to be befitting for the hunter. Crowley trades the souls of innocents for Bobby's. Sweetness between the two of them ensues.





	He Says Sorry With a Straight Face

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keograti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keograti/gifts).



> HAHAH this is Keograti's fault.

When news reached Crowley that Bobby Singer had slipped into a coma and passed away, his entire world crumbled around him. His walls caved in atop him, and he was shaken to his very foundations. The soul which had so temporarily belonged to him was Heaven-bound, and the thought of losing the old hunter to pearly white gates lit a roiling fire under Crowley’s temper. The demon was prepared to slaughter thousands of innocents to trade for Singer’s soul. He would relapse into the cruel being he had been when he was a young demon. He wouldn’t stand for such a lackluster death for a man who was anything but.

Being the King of Hell came with its perks. Beating his fist against the stones of the wall until his knuckles were bloody, Crowley drew upon the power of all the souls at his command. Bobby would not appreciate lives being traded for his own, but Crowley couldn’t find it within himself to care. When the act was complete, he sank into an uneasy sort of rest, hands trembling. 

Crowley could hardly deny how deeply the human had affected him. Singer had always intrigued the demon, and when the hunter’s soul had belonged to Crowley, he had learned there was more to that curiosity than he had realized. Bobby had oftentimes called upon him to demand his soul back. This bickering led to a sort of game of cat and mouse. The two of them played so well with each other.   
The game ended with the two of them sipping alcohol of their choice in Bobby’s living room, Crowley perched on the arm of the ratty couch and Bobby lounging in his arm chair. Crowley had started the night with a fine flask of Craig, and ended it nearly twelve beers deep. It took a lot for demons to get wasted. He vaguely remembered staring for too long at the open, top two buttons of Bobby’s shirt, Bobby noticing this. The next logical action to his muddled brain had been to sling himself into Bobby’s lap and censor his questions in a kiss. 

He wasn’t invited back for drinks for a while after that. He presumed Bobby was angry, or ashamed, or something. He didn’t push. Crowley took his irritabilities out on his footsoliders and the inhabitants of his kingdom. The rapid upswing to his mood was noticeable the moment Bobby Singer called for him. This sort of meandering, fiery juxtaposition of a relationship became Crowley’s selfish priority to hold on to Bobby’s soul. Even when he had relinquished that grasp, Bobby continued to call on him. That would end if Bobby were to die. Crowley would not permit that to happen. 

The King of Hell was, for lack of better term, slumped in the uncomfortable visitors chair at Bobby’s bedside when the hunter awoke. All it had taken was a dark look towards the attending nurse to be let in after visiting hours. His hand loosely clasped Bobby’s, his head bowed until his forehead touched the sheets before Bobby’s hip. He had been soothed into an uneasy sleep by the steady, reassuring blip of the heart monitor. The work he had put into Bobby’s resurrection had worn him thin, and exhaustion had taken its toll. 

Bobby’s eyes flickered open, and he took a long moment to assess the situation. For one thing, he couldn’t tell if he was dead or not. He could be in Heaven, because Crowley was at his bedside. Then again, he could be in Hell, because Crowley was at his bedside. For another, he figured if he was dead he wouldn’t be in so much damn pain.

He figured what the hell, and squeezed Crowley’s hand gently. The small movement alone sent discomfort lancing through his body. The hunter steadfastly ignored it, keeping his gaze fixed on the demon. Crowley shifted in the rickety chair, shoulders rolling under his suit jacket before he lifted his head wearily. His eyes, red in lack of effort in keeping his vessel together and the strong emotions coursing through him both, raced across Bobby’s face as he awoke fully, his breath audibly catching. 

Bobby wanted to smirk. Instead, he squeezed Crowley’s hand again. The responding grip was so strong Bobby heard the bones in his hand grind together. They opened their mouths to speak at the same time, and Crowley’s breath rushed out of him in a hurried whisper. 

“You are not allowed to leave me, do you understand?” 

The old hunter appraised the demon’s weariness, his haphazard appearance, and swallowed tightly. Crowley’s grip increased in force, his eyes catching Bobby’s. “For fuck’s sake, Singer, don’t do that ever again.”

“Oh, Hell.” Bobby answered matter-of-factly, smoothing his thumb over the back of Crowley’s knuckles. 

Crowley kissed him. He kissed him like he was a drowning man, he kissed him like he was a starving man, he kissed him like he was the King of Hell who had had too close a call with losing his favorite mortal. The demon only drew away when Bobby hissed in pain, relinquishing his hold on his hand to touch his side. 

“Don’t fuss with it.” Crowley admonished, batting Bobby’s hand away from the crisp, white bandages, and instead placing it on the place just above his hip. 

“Yes, mother.” Bobby snarked back, earning himself a lapful of demon. 

Crowley laid his head on Bobby’s knee, peering up at him through the fine mist of his eyelashes. “You’ll drive a demon to drink, you know.” He muttered, closing his eyes when Bobby’s hand found his hair.   
The hunter carded his fingers through the silky black hair Crowley’s vessel sported, his free hand running slow races up and down the column of Crowley’s throat. The demon nearly purred, brows knitting together as he pushed his face harder into Bobby’s leg. They lay that way for a long while, the demon seeking comfort in the heat of the living man. He exhaled slowly, nuzzling there for a minute before heaving himself back up into a sitting position. 

He shot an irate look at the door, then drew Bobby into a hungry kiss. The hunter’s hospital gown rustled as he reached up, ignoring the shouting pain in his side to cup the nape of Crowley’s neck and seal them together. The demon nipped his lower lip, relishing in the scent of Bobby underneath that of the offensively clean hospital smell. Bobby’s free hand slid up Crowley’s leg, and the demon smiled into the kiss before pulling back with a final slide of his tongue along Bobby’s lower lip.

“Your boys are coming.” He murmured, hands smoothing down the front of Bobby’s hospital gown, following the natural planes of his chest. “Call me when they’ve gone.”

Bobby nodded, casting a glance towards the door as well. He swore he could hear Dean’s voice combating that of the nurse. He looked back to Crowley, touching the back of his wrist and saying, “I know you pulled some shit to get me back here.”

Crowley looked deeply offended, and Bobby continued. “I know you needed me here to keep you in line. I guess I’ll let you get away with it.”

The look of offense slipped from Crowley’s face, replaced by a soft smile. He placed a tender kiss on Bobby’s temple, then, as the door’s latch clicked, was gone. Bobby looked up to a thrilled, emotional pair of men. His boys. He supposed he could lump Crowley in with the small group of people who cared about him.


End file.
